


Sweet, Wonderful You

by yourlionheartx



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Eating Disorders, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Suicide Attempt, like a really small mention of a suicide attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 01:04:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12399915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourlionheartx/pseuds/yourlionheartx
Summary: Zayn’s an ex-world-famous model recovering from an eating disorder. Liam’s a celebrity personal trainer. Their mutual friend Niall, a pop star trying to make a comeback, introduces them to each other. Also Harry is Zayn’s ex-rival turned best friend and a model who also stars in movies and Louis is his premiere footballer fiancé.





	Sweet, Wonderful You

**Author's Note:**

> God, I don't know man been working on this for less than a week. I couldn't stop writing once I got the idea. There was meant to be more gym stuff in here because I came up with this while I was working out to stop myself from dying of boredom. Also I've already written a little prequel to this with Niall and Liam's friendship because I have a lovely dark back story for Liam. Maybe I'll make this a series. Who knows? I don't know anything bye 
> 
> Title and lyrics from You make loving fun by Fleetwood Mac
> 
> x

_I never did believe in miracles,_

_But I’ve a feeling it’s time to try._

_I never did believe in the ways of magic,_

_But I’m beginning to wonder why._

It’s quiet outside, still too early in the morning for anyone to be heading to work. Hardly any cars are on the road. Zayn watches someone opposite opening the shutters of the corner shop where he buys his cigarettes every day. May 25th 2017 and the world’s going on like normal. Zayn appears on ‘where are they now’ features online sometimes and gets snapped by paparazzi whenever he’s seen out with Harry or Niall, but he’s mostly off the radar. He eats three meals a day and snacks, he goes out with his friends, he serves coffee to people who occasionally stop to stare, trying to figure out where they know him from. He’s okay.

Two years ago, he was the biggest model in the UK, almost the world. On perfume adverts, taking part in runway shows, being photographed and followed every time he left his apartment, news stories daily about his feud with Harry Styles and any guy or girl they could link him with. He felt invincible.

Then on May 25th 2015 he collapsed during a Tom Ford show, right on the runway in front of a thousand people with cameras. His head fuzzed, his vision blurred and he went down. His blood pressure was too low, his bones too thin, his body too light. His heart was failing.

He woke up two days later to, of all the people in the world, Harry fucking Styles leaning over him and saying his name, all soft and concerned. “Oh, Zayn. Thank God,” he breathed and Zayn opened his mouth to tell him to fuck off but there was something in his throat and he started to gag. Then things started to clear up around him, the beeping of the hospital machine, the white sheets, the tube in his body feeding him food. He started shaking his head, tears burning. He tried to reach for the tube but his hand was too heavy and then Harry was entwining their fingers.

Harry who did an interview for Vogue just weeks ago claiming that Zayn was past it and old news, Harry who frequently indirected Zayn on Twitter and called him a moody shit and someone who makes everyone around him feel miserable. He was holding Zayn’s hand and all Zayn could do was stare at him. No one else had come to visit him, no one but Harry, and Harry didn’t leave. He stayed when Zayn broke down and tried to pull out the tube, he stayed when Zayn told him over and over again how much he hated him, he stayed when Zayn started eating again and he was crying every time he swallowed. Zayn didn’t understand why but Harry stayed.

“Is this all because you feel guilty or something,=?” Zayn asked on the evening that he finally got back to his own apartment. Harry had driven him back. Now he was nosing around of course, shifting through Zayn’s bookshelf.

“What do I have to feel guilty about?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know, maybe you think this whole rivalry thing made me want to starve myself.”

Harry winced at Zayn’s bluntness. “I don’t think that.”

“Then why are you here?” Zayn’s voice was firm. He sat back on the sofa, drawing his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on his folded arms.

Harry turned to look at him. “I’m here because, believe it or not, I don’t actually hate you. It’s for publicity. I think you’re the best model, the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen and I care about you. A lot.”

Zayn stared. “Is this – being here for publicity too?”

“Will you shut up?” Harry asked. He shook his head. “You’re an idiot.”

Zayn didn’t get it then but it makes sense now. It makes sense in the way Harry would make stupid excuses to turn up to his house, how he cooked for him and fussed over him and held him when he felt broken. Harry wasn’t doing it because he felt guilty or because he wanted the press to pick up on it and call him a saint. He did it because, at the time, he was head over heels for Zayn and Zayn didn’t even notice.

It wasn’t until Summer last year that Harry told him. They were in LA together on the beach and he said it so casually. “You never realised how much I adored you,” Harry said, burying his feet into the sand and glancing at Zayn with a shy smile.

“You what?” Zayn asked.

“I was absolutely in love with you for years.”

They kissed that night, both drunk on long island ice teas. The next day Harry met Louis and that was that for him. Zayn’s never seen someone so in love.

**

Harry’s calling now. His stupid grin flashing up on Zayn’s phone. They took that photo last year on holiday when Harry’s hair was still long and tied up in a bun. He’s cut it short now for a film role. Zayn answers the call, putting it on speaker so he can use both hands to light up his cigarette.

“Hey Zayny,” Harry’s voice sing songs. “Big day. Two years in recovery. I’m proud of you, mate.”

“Cheers,” Zayn says. He watches smoke curl in front of his face. A couple run past with an umbrella even though it isn’t raining yet.

“So, me and Lou are in London today looking at wedding venues and we’d love to get a coffee with you,” Harry says.

They had dated for four months before they proposed to each other on Louis’ birthday, Christmas eve, in the snow in New York City. Zayn remembers the video call and how lovely it all was and how jealous he had felt. He always feels jealous of Harry, can’t help it. They were each others biggest competition two years ago, both the best, but Zayn lacked Harry’s charisma, the constant social media updates and vlogs about his travels. He’s in movies now, getting all these crazy deals and contracts and he’s getting married and he’s so fucking happy and Zayn still feels lost and lonely.

“What time?” Zayn asks.

“Um – two ish,” Harry replies.

“Sure. I’m heading to the gym later though. Niall recommended a personal trainer.”

Harry’s quiet on the other side of the phone. Then Zayn hears him sigh. “Is that a good idea, Zayn?”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to obsess, okay? Promise. I just want to get fitter. This guys worked with people who have recovered from eating disorders before.”

“Okay,” Harry says slowly.

“Then I’ll take a shower and come meet you guys. Text me where.”

“Okay, will do. Say hi to Niall for me,” Harry says. “Love you, Zayn. I really do. You’re so strong.”

“I love you too,” Zayn says with a smile, finishing his cigarette and stubbing it out. He hears Harry laugh before he hangs up.

**

Niall’s already waiting for him when he arrives, leaning over the reception desk and chatting to a red head who’s staring at him like he’s the sun. Niall kind of is the sun. He’s almost always smiling, has been since Zayn met him at a group therapy session. He remembers walking in and seeing him there, recognising him from front pages of magazines.

Niall Horan had a number one single at 14 years old, some cheesy pop thing that Zayn tried to avoid listening to, he had a sell-out world tour at 15. He was addicted to drugs at 16, photographed outside bars with sick on his clothes and his eyes unfocused, a huge scandal that got him dropped by his label. When he was 18 his second album flopped and he got high and drove his Lamborghini headfirst into traffic. It’s been six years but Niall’s still in an out of therapy, not that you’d ever think it if you met him and didn’t know who he was. He’s smiling at Zayn now, waving him over.

“Zayn,” he greets, pulling him into a quick hug. “I got your pass already.” He hands Zayn the red card, still grinning.

“How much do I owe you?” Zayn asks.

“Nah. It’s pennies mate. And I have a feeling the new song’s going to sell. It’s good shit.”

“So modest.”

“Never be modest about your art,” Niall says, giving Zayn a pointed look. “Or just completely self-deprecating in your case – oh, that’s Liam.” Niall runs off and Zayn follows him with his eyes, watching him run over to a man and high five him. Zayn’s pretty sure his jaw drops like he’s in some kind of kids cartoon.

He’s gorgeous. Boyishly handsome with a square jaw and stubble, hair slicked back and a smile that’s putting Niall’s to shame. The loose vest and shorts he’s wearing do nothing to hide the muscles and tattoos and, _shit_ , Zayn’s still staring at him. He coughs and looks down, shoving his hands into his pockets as he approaches Liam and Niall.

“Hey, Zayn. Nice to meet you,” Liam says. He holds out a tattooed hand and Zayn takes it, shaking it, and feeling the contact everywhere like pin pricks.  

“Hi,” Zayn says. His hand is back in his pocket straight away. He’s sure he can feel his face heating up, but the gym is _hot_. Why are gyms always so hot?

“I’m gonna go and run,” Niall says, walking towards the treadmill. Zayn’s pretty sure everyone in the gym sees Niall turn and give Zayn a big cheesy wink, nodding his head towards Liam. Arsehole.

Zayn’s no stranger to the gym. He used to go until he was physically exhausted and sometimes sick, but this is different. He can’t jump on the treadmill and run until his legs give out. Liam’s going to be talking him through everything, watching him, judging him. “So, have you weight trained before, Zayn?” Liam asks.

Zayn shakes his head. Weight training would bulk him out, not slim him down like he used to aim for. He spent his gym time on cardio equipment, hours at a time.

“Okay. Well, getting the correct form is the most important thing – before we get into how heavy you can go and all that. If you’re lifting twenty kilos and lifting it wrong, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Zayn nods. He knows he’s being weird and quiet but he isn’t sure what to say. He feels like his voice is going to come out too loud or croaky or something. There’s no reason for him to feel so nervous, he just does. Liam doesn’t seem to mind. Liam still smiles like Zayn’s worth smiling at.

They start really slow. The lowest weights, the easiest versions of each exercise. Zayn knows why, his body is still too weak to be thrown into a vigorous training programme. He hasn’t exercised properly in a long time and last time he did his muscles were already so worn down that there’s not much left of them at all. He follows Liam’s directions and Liam keeps touching him, squeezing his arm when he’s lifting to check he’s working the right muscle, he runs his hand down Zayn’s back to check his form, brushes against him when adjusting the weights on machines.

 “Good job today,” Liam says after Zayn’s showered, changed into jeans and a t shirt and his leather jacket. Liam’s smiling, all soft. He’s so soft. Zayn can’t stop looking at him

“Thanks,” Zayn says.

“I have you scheduled for Friday but in case something comes up and you can’t make it, I’ll give you my number.” Liam hands Zayn a business card, white and blue with his details typed on it.

“Okay.” Zayn pockets the card, looking up at Liam who glances away from Zayn with what Zayn’s sure is a blush. “I’ve gotta run, I’m meeting friends,” Zayn says.

“See you,” Liam calls after him.

Zayn turns to see Liam still watching him. He backs up and walks into a huge, muscled man who isn’t looking where he’s going either. _Fuck_ , Zayn’s such a mess. “Bye,” he squeaks out, almost running outside

Niall’s still outside, grinning smugly when Zayn approaches him. “He’s all right, yeah?” he says.

“He’s okay,” Zayn says, rolling his eyes. He reaches in his pocket for his cigarettes.

“Oh, come on, Zayn – I looked over when he was ‘checking your form’,” Niall uses his wiggles his fingers in commas. “He’s into you. Go for it.”

Zayn shakes his head. “I’m meeting Harry and Louis if you want to join,” he changes the subject and Niall pouts for a moment before sighing.

“Nah, heading to the studio with Ed. Stuck being third wheel alone there, mate,” Niall grins and starts walking towards the underground station. Zayn walks to the café, just a few minutes from the gym.

Harry has sunglasses on, a bandana wrapped around his head and Louis Tomlinson attached to his arm. They really are an attractive couple, hailed the new generations Posh and Becks by every reporter. Louis waves when he sees Zayn. Zayn likes Louis. He’s loud and honest and very down to earth for a millionaire footballer.

They got on the moment Zayn and Harry met Louis in a club in LA. Harry followed Zayn when Zayn went out for a cigarette and Louis was out with some of his team mates that night. Louis had looked at Zayn for a moment and then simply said ‘oh, hey, you’re the model who like nearly died, right?’. It was pretty refreshing compared to everyone else’s whispers and points.

“Hey guys,” Zayn says, sitting down. “One, you’re inside and two, it’s raining.” He gestures at Harry’s sunglasses.

“Three, I’m a world famous model who is about to star in a Christopher Nolan movie,” Harry mutters back.

Zayn fake gasps. “I totally forgot you’re in another movie. Louis, did you know?”

Louis grins, shaking his head. “No idea,” he says, playing along.

Harry pulls his glasses off so he can glare at his fiancé. “All right, whatever. The glasses have gone,” he says, folding them neatly and placing them next to his extravagant looking coffee which is covered in cream and chocolate sprinkles. Zayn looks at it and then at Louis’ black coffee and he smiles to himself.

“How was the gym? How’s Niall?” Harry asks.

“Gym was okay. The personal trainer is literally a God of some kind, like too hot to be a human being. Niall’s good, he’s been sober for like almost three years now, which is awesome.” Zayn smiles when the waitress stops in front of him. “I’ll have a soy latte please,” he says.

“How hot exactly?” Louis asks. Harry elbows him in the side but Louis just grins and pinches Harry’s arm in retaliation. “Not as hot as this one, obviously.”

“I don’t know. He’s just nice to look at,” Zayn says with a shrug. “And nice in general, actually. He’s just nice.”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “We’ve been friends for two years and you’ve never shown interest in anyone. At all. This is interesting.”

“I had lowered sexual interest or whatever. My doctor said,” Zayn says. He waves his hand. “And I’m fussy.”

Louis grins. “Gotta be,” he says.

“Good for Niall too,” Harry says. He takes a mouthful of his coffee, whipped cream getting stuck to his lip. Zayn tries not to grimace when Louis leans forward to lick it away.

“Found a venue?” Zayn asks.

“Oh, wedding stuff – that’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” He looks at Louis with a smile. “So, we’re both having best men, right? Louis already got it sorted. I want you to be mine.”

 The waitress comes back, places Zayn’s latte in front of him and Zayn stares at it and then back at Harry. “Me?” he asks.

“Yeah. It’s gonna be a quiet thing. I could sell it to magazines, my agent wants me to, but we want a little, personal thing.” Harry squeezes Louis’ fingers and keeps smiling at Zayn. “So, if your excuse is the press I’ve already dealt with it.”

“Um – seriously? Of course I want to but I have to give a speech right?” Zayn asks. The idea of Harry’s close friends and family all watching him try to stutter out why him and Harry got so close sounds terrifying.

“Stand up, call me a prick, sit back down again. I don’t care.”

Zayn laughs. “Easy enough,” he says.

**

Later on that day Zayn’s stretched out on his sofa watching Friends but not paying attention. Niall’s been texting him song lyrics with question marks, getting Zayn’s opinions. Zayn sends photos back of unfinished sketches which Niall is always over the top enthusiastic about.

_man, that’s one of your best ever_ Niall messages. Zayn looks at the drawing, the view outside his window when it’s busier, people all over the streets rushing to work and cars stuck at traffic lights. Zayn likes how busy London gets. Then Niall messages again

_liam says he gave you his number, you gonna text him?_

_no probably not_

_ugh zayn youre killing me_

Zayn rolls his eyes. _what would I even say?_

_hey wanna get a drink with me and then suck me off? idk something like that_

Zayn can’t help laughing, picturing Liam’s face if he ever received that message, all flustered and red. He shakes his head, going out of his messages to check his contacts. He’s saved Liam’s name as ‘Liam Payne’. It’s next to Niall’s. After a few deep breaths he types out

_hey this is zayn. thought i’d send you a message so you have my number too, in case anything goes wrong your side and you need to contact me._ Very formal, very professional.

It’s literally seconds before he gets back _hey zayn!! awesome, saved your number. see you on friday xx_

The kisses on the end make Zayn want to roll over, shove his face into the sofa cushions and scream. He’s not sure how he’s going to survive this.

**

He’s at the gym on Monday and Liam’s helping him with the bench press but it’s difficult to concentrate on ‘Do you feel it in this muscle?’, ‘Is the weight okay? Wanna go lighter?’ when Liam’s hovering over him, brown eyes watching him, fingers touching the muscles he’s meant to be working. Niall’s not here today, he’s weeks away from dropping his comeback single, first song in six years, and he’s all wired up and nervous about it. Zayn’s texting him pretty much continuously, worried the stress is going to lead him to do something stupid, but so far so good.

“Hey, um – what are you doing tonight?” Liam asks. Zayn almost drops the bar but Liam grabs it in time. “Sorry,” Liam mutters, lifting it and putting it back in place. Zayn sits up and finds his water bottle, drinking to try and dislodge the lump in his throat. He’s doing what he does every night. Nothing at all. He looks up at Liam who’s watching him with wide eyes.

“Nothing,” Zayn says. He gets to his feet when he notices a man waiting for the bench, arms crossed and an angry look on his face because Zayn’s just sitting there like an idiot.

“Do you – um,” Liam clears his throat. “Would you like to get dinner?” Liam asks.

Zayn can’t breathe. He looks from his water to the treadmill, watches a girl running for a moment. Then he looks back at Liam who’s still waiting for an answer, starting to chew on his bottom lip. “Or not?” Liam says slowly. “That’s okay. If you don’t want to, it’s okay.”

“I think I’m getting dinner with Niall,” Zayn says.

“You just said you don’t have plans.”

“I forgot.” Zayn glances away again. “It’s um – it’s the pull down next right?” He walks towards the machine and feels Liam follow him.

Liam tries to make sure the rest of the workout isn’t awkward. He makes a real effort to carry on as normal, like Zayn hasn’t just turned him down. When Zayn’s ready to leave, showered and in his leather jacket, Liam says goodbye and gives him a kind of sad smile that Zayn can’t stop seeing on his walk home.

**

“You did what?” Niall almost yells down the phone. “Fucks sake, Zayn.”

“I haven’t been on a date in like – I’ve never been on a date, Niall. I don’t know what to say to him. He’s so pretty.” Zayn groans and drops his head into the hand that isn’t holding his phone.

“You’re pretty,” Niall insists. “You just chat about what you like, I don’t know – superheroes, drawing, TV shows - ”

“He’ll hate me,” Zayn says and he can hear Niall sighing.

“You are ridiculous, Zayn Malik.”

Zayn just nods because really, he is. “I’m scared,” he admits.

“I know,” Niall’s voice is so full of understanding and Zayn knows he knows. Niall’s not exactly had the best experience with the girls he likes. He fell really hard for a girl about four years ago, before he knew Zayn. She had ended up being a journalist, so desperate for a story on ex-child star Niall Horan that she broke his heart in the process. Niall doesn’t trust people much anymore. He flicks from girl to girl looking for a connection but always ends up on Zayn’s doorstep in tears, scared to go back home alone in case he slips again.

“Liam’s a really nice guy, Zayn. I’ve known him for a while. He’s genuine. You’re the best person in the world. You’d be good together.”

“Shut up,” Zayn mutters, half hearted. He smiles, shaking his head. “I’ll see him Wednesday, maybe I’ll think about it.”

**

Wednesday comes and they work out and Liam’s quiet, just doing his job. He doesn’t touch Zayn like before, avoids looking straight at him. Zayn keeps trying to catch his eye but Liam’s looking anywhere else, his face serious.

“Good job,” Liam says with a tight smile when they’re finished.

“Liam,” Zayn starts, but he doesn’t really know how to continue. Liam looks up at him, tilts his head to the side, waiting. He looks like a fucking puppy or something. Zayn takes a breath but Liam interrupts.

“It’s okay, Zayn. Really, it’s okay. I just – I want to know you. Doesn’t need to be a date, you know? We can go get drinks and chat.” He shrugs.

“I kind of want it to be a date,” Zayn admits and Liam’s eyes widen.

“You - really?”

Zayn smiles and nods. “If you want it to be, still. If you haven’t like gone off me or whatever?”

“Of course I haven’t,” Liam says, shaking his head. “God, okay – um, there’s a restaurant my friend owns in Convent garden. It’s lovely. I can get a table for – what time? seven? Is seven good?”

Zayn feels his stomach somersaulting, nervous but happy. Happy that he’s someone Liam wants to sit opposite from at a ‘lovely’ restaurant, someone that Liam wants to know. “Seven’s good,” he says with a nod.

**

Liam’s outside the restaurant when Zayn arrives, looking so good that Zayn’s first thought is to turn and run back home, bury himself under his covers and disappear. Liam’s wearing a loose grey t shirt and tight black jeans. When he sees Zayn his face lights up, really that’s the only way to describe the way he looks up and smiles and it’s like he’s glowing. Zayn had spent more than a few hours on a video call to Harry and Louis, trying on different outfits until he settled on a black and white striped shirt with black jeans, and his leather jacket obviously.

“Hey Zayn,” Liam says, stepping forward and then hesitating, not sure if they should shake hands, hug, high five. How do you even greet someone on a date?

Zayn pauses too. “Hi,” He breathes. “You look good,” he says. It’s the first time he’s seen Liam out of his gym clothes. He tries not to trail is eyes over him too much, but he does and Liam’s smile turns all shy.

They get their table in a quiet corner. There’s flowers on the table, roses in a clear vase, and Liam pulls Zayn’s chair out for him, all gentlemanly and sweet. They order a bunch of starters to share, making small talk that probably annoys the waiter who just stands there and hopes they hurry up with their order. Liam’s 23 and used to want to be a professional boxer before he got into working out and realised he wanted to be a trainer.

“How did you meet Niall?” Zayn asks, taking a sip of his water.

 “I met him in a bar actually. I knew who he was, knew he shouldn’t be drinking but obviously didn’t want to tell him that because he didn’t know me.”

Liam smiles and thanks the waiter when he places their food down. “I helped him home that night, invited him out for coffee the next day. Been best mates since then. I think I had this thing – I wanted to help him, but then I realised he can only help himself, really. I think he helped me too, he taught me a lot about friendship. Never had many friends.”

Zayn nods. “Me neither. Niall, and Harry, they’re the best things in my life.”

“What about your family?” Liam takes a mozzarella stick.

Zayn goes for the chips first. He waits until he’s swallowed before answering. “I don’t talk to them,” he says with a shrug, trying to pass it off as nothing when obviously it is something. “They weren’t keen on the whole dropping out of school to model and then publicly coming out before telling them thing.”

Zayn remembers the photos all over the internet the day after he spent a night pressed up against a photographer in a nightclub, kissing his neck, holding his hand. His publicist had made him do an interview a few days later, coming out to the whole world before his parents had any idea.

“Shit, sorry,” Liam says. “If – um, I hope this isn’t weird but I remember when you did that interview and I was kind of coming to terms with myself then. You helped me out, seeing someone so – I don’t know, famous, I guess and open, it helped me out. You helped a lot of people out.”

Zayn tries not to think about Liam as a teenager, reading the interview, Liam watching Zayn on perfume adverts and seeing him on TV, watching him rise, up and up and then fall, face down on a runway in Milan. “I spoke to a lot of young guys after that who had found courage to – like, accept themselves. People from similar backgrounds who had told their family, their friends,” Zayn says and Liam gives him that soft smile.

“Harry, actually – he was what 17 then and he said I helped him out.” Zayn thinks of Harry, just a child when he started modelling, thrown straight into all the big shows before he was even legal to drink.

They keep talking, getting to know each other, and Zayn’s surprised with how smoothly it goes. Sure, there’s moments when they’re silent, picking at food and smiling at each other, but it isn’t awkward. It feels good. Zayn feels really, really good.

Liam insists on driving Zayn home, even though it’s the opposite side of the city from his place.

“I had a great time tonight,” Liam says, stopping his car outside Zayn’s apartment.

Zayn looks at him. “Me too,” he says.

Liam leans forward, wetting his lips with his tongue, eyes on Zayn’s mouth, and Zayn closes the distance, kissing him. He feels Liam’s fingers, gentle on his cheek, trailing up to Zayn’s hair and Zayn holds Liam’s shoulder as Liam licks into his mouth. So soft.

“Good night,” Liam says against Zayn’s lips. Zayn smiles and tugs Liam back in. He wants to keep kissing him forever.

“Good night,” Zayn whispers, finally pulling back. He has a shift tomorrow that starts at 8am. He needs to stop leaning in and kissing Liam, not letting him leave.

He feels Liam smiling. “Good night, Zayn. I’ll see you Friday.”

Zayn nods. “See you Friday. Good night, Liam.” He gets out of the car, smile still stuck to his face as Liam pulls away and his car disappears around the corner.

**

Three weeks pass. Three weeks of Liam and Zayn working out together, touching each other, flirting so much that one time Niall leaves with an eye roll but later texts Zayn _get it malik ;)._ They go on more dates, more restaurants and bars and movies and holding hands, kissing outside Zayn’s apartment. Zayn never invites him in, Liam never pushes. They make out in Liam’s car until they’re both breathless and Zayn has work the next day or breakfast with Harry, any excuse he can find to stop Liam getting out of the car and following him inside.

“How’s the sex?” Louis asks one day over a quick lunch. It’s just Louis. Harry’s in LA. Zayn nearly chokes on his sandwich. He glances up at Louis, face red. Louis looks back, but then it clicks and he wrinkles his nose. “Oh man, seriously? It’s almost been a whole month and you haven’t got in is pants? Why?”

Zayn shrugs. “I don’t know.”

He knows Louis well enough to know he won’t change the subject. “So, is he like – saving it till marriage?” Zayn shakes his head. “He’s a virgin?” Zayn shakes his head. Louis lowers his voice. “You’re a virgin?” he asks and Zayn rolls his eyes.

“No, Louis.”

“Then what’s the issue?”

“I don’t want him to see me naked,” Zayn says. Louis’ quiet for a moment, which is weird because Louis is never quiet for any moments.

“Oh,” is all Louis says. He scratches the back of his neck.

Zayn feels stupid. “I sometimes want to, I want him to come up to my apartment with me – but, I think about – you know, and I can’t. I really can’t.”

“Don’t tell Haz I said this, but Zayn, mate, I bet you look great with your kit off. ‘Specially with all the working out you been doing. Look at these biceps.” Louis reaches to squeeze Zayn’s skinny arm, grinning, but Zayn pulls back.

“I don’t think I can do it. I don’t want to lead him on, but he’s so – he’s not pushing. Maybe I can take it really, really slowly.”

Louis nods but Zayn isn’t sure if he really understands. Zayn’s still really insecure, still spends mornings in front of his mirror, just staring, not recognising himself. He still tries clothes on in shop changing rooms and has to bite back tears when the size of jeans he chose won’t button up now that there’s a little more fat around his middle, where before he knew the smallest size would still be loose. It’s easy to structure his days, eat the food, avoid the panic, but it’s a lot harder to completely stop his mind from going right back there.

He’s scared of Liam’s hands on his chest, his eyes on his body, his mouth on the inside of his thighs. He’s scared Liam will see him, really see him and realise what Zayn already knows about himself.

**

On Saturday, Zayn has an afternoon shift. He spends the morning lying around, messaging Niall to calm him down when he gets himself into a frenzy because it’s tonight. Midnight tonight UK time that he drops the single. He’s tweeted about it already. Zayn’s excited for him. The song is really, really fucking good. Very far from Niall’s old cheesy pop songs, all acoustic with deep lyrics.

He turns up to his shift ten minutes late but his manager just rolls his eyes. A few hours go by, lattes, mochas, cappuccinos, hot chocolates, pastries, paninis. Then there’s quiet and Zayn checks his pocket for his cigarettes. He’s about to go out the back for a break when he hears a voice.

“Hey Zayn.”

Liam’s standing on the other side of the counter wearing a grey jumper with the sleeves rolled up and ripped jeans, aviators on top of his head. He smiles.

“Liam.” Zayn’s in his uniform, hair a mess, probably bags under his eyes. He pushes his hands into his pockets. “Good timing. I’ve got 15 minutes break.”

They go outside so Zayn can smoke and Liam leans close to him. “Hope this isn’t stalkery,” Liam says with small laugh. “Niall told me you worked here. I wanted to come say hi. When do you finish?”

“It’s not stalkery, it’s good to see you. I – um,” Zayn checks his watch. “I get off at five.”

Liam smiles. His fingers find Zayn’s hand, moving to join their fingers. “Maybe I could stick around,” he says.

“I’d like that.”

Zayn makes Liam an americano and between serving customers and cleaning tables he sits with Liam and they talk, about Niall’s song, about their weekend plans, maybe they could go see the new Fast and furious movie. Liam’s fingers brush Zayn’s arm as he walks back to the till where a woman is waiting to order.

When Zayn’s shift ends, Liam walks him back to his apartment, holding his hand. They pause outside. “Can I come in?” Liam asks. Zayn swallows before nodding. His hands shake as he unlocks the door. It’s a bit messy, clothes thrown around the living room, his laptop still open on his coffee table with an unfinished mug of coffee and a full ashtray. There are scraps of sketch paper and pencils covering the surface. Liam walks over, picking up a sketch Zayn was working on before Niall’s first message this morning.

“You did this? It’s so good,” Liam says, sounding like he really means it.

It’s just a drawing of his old back garden, or what he remembers from it anyway. It’s not the best thing he’s ever drawn and Zayn doesn’t know to accept compliments. “Yeah. Thanks,” he says. “Do you want a drink?”

Liam shakes his head, putting the paper down and walking back to Zayn. He loops his arms around Zayn’s neck before smiling and leaning in to kiss him. Zayn’s hand rests on Liam’s hip, pulling him closer and when Liam moans quietly into his mouth, Zayn’s fingers clench in the material of his jumper.

“You’re amazing,” Liam breathes. “You are, you’re so amazing.” He smiles again and Zayn feels his hands trailing down to the hem of Zayn’s uniform shirt. Zayn steps back, almost stumbling. Liam steps back too, eyes wide. “Sorry,” he says.

“It’s – no, it’s okay. I’m sorry.” Zayn kisses Liam again. He lets Liam move his hands up under his t shirt and then he freezes again, tilting his head away from the kiss and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Are you okay?” Liam takes his hands away immediately. “I’m not going to push.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Zayn mutters. He runs a hand through his hair, not looking at Liam’s concerned expression. “Sorry – can we just. Do you want to watch a movie?”

Liam nods.

They end up watching the first Captain America movie on Netflix and Liam curls up behind Zayn on the sofa, his arm around his waist and holding his hand, playing with his fingers, tracing over the tattoos on his arm. Zayn closes his eyes and focuses on Liam’s weight behind him, pressed close to all of him.

Next thing he knows Liam’s gently shaking him awake. “Hey, love, Niall’s calling you,” he whispers. Zayn moves to sit up, grabbing his phone. It’s nine ‘o clock.

“Niall,” Zayn greets. “You okay? Wait – slow down, can’t understand you.”

“I have three hours and I think I’m going to die.”

Zayn sighs. “You won’t die, man, the songs great. Everyone’s going to fucking love it.”

Niall takes a breath. “Will you download it?” he asks.

“Ni, me and Liam will download like ten copies each.”

Niall’s quiet. Then “Is Liam there?”

“Yeah, he’s here.” Zayn turns to smile at Liam who’s sitting up next to him.

“I didn’t interrupt anything, did I? Shit, sorry.”

“Mate, if we were doing that I wouldn’t have answered your call. No offence.”

Niall laughs and Zayn hears Liam let out a small chuckle. “I’m gonna leave you to it,” Niall says. “I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah. Call me tomorrow.”

“I will. Have good sex.”

“Fuck off.” Zayn hangs up, turning to smile at Liam. “Sorry.”

“No, not at all. Don’t be silly. It’s good you two have each other.”

Zayn nods. It is good. They stop each other from going off the deep end.

Zayn moves closer to Liam, ducks his head to rest on his shoulder and Liam draws him close. “You okay?” Liam asks. 

“I’m scared that you’ll think – that I’m ugly,” Zayn says, sounding stupid. He has his fist in Liam’s jumper again and he feels Liam’s lips on his head.

“How the fuck could I ever think that, Zayn? You’re beautiful,” Liam whispers.

“Because I think it,” Zayn mumbles into Liam’s shoulder.

“You shouldn’t.” Liam’s voice is firm. “You should never think that. You’re wonderful, Zayn. You’re beautiful but you’re more than that. You’re talented and you’re kind and you make me feel so happy.”

They end up falling asleep again on the sofa, still all wrapped up in each other and Zayn feels, for the first time in a really, really long time, he feels special. He feels like he’s worth it.

**

His phone is buzzing when he wakes up. It’s Niall again. Zayn moves to answer it but Liam’s arm curls tighter around his waist, restricting him. Zayn manages to sit up and he hears Liam sigh, feels him roll over onto his back. As Zayn answers the call, he opens the internet and types Niall’s name into Google.

“It’s in the charts already,” Niall says.

“Oh, man, that’s awesome.”

“Yeah, right. It’s going to get to number one, Zayn. I can feel it. Have you seen the comments about it online?”

Zayn’s reading them now, so many good reviews, so much praise. He feels proud. “It will get to number one,” he agrees. He feels Liam sit up and rest his head on Zayn’s shoulder, smiling against his skin, kissing over his neck. “I gotta go, Niall. Congrats.”

“Bye man,” Niall ends the call and Zayn turns to kiss Liam properly, pushing him back onto the sofa.

“Why did we sleep here?” Zayn asks. “I have two beds in this apartment.”

Liam grins. “I don’t know, we got lazy.”

“You shouldn’t be lazy, you’re a fitness trainer.” Zayn kisses Liam again and feels Liam’s hands on the back of his neck, drawing him closer.

Zayn calls in sick and they spend the day lying around, lazily making out and watching Netflix. Zayn makes them coffee, Liam orders them Chinese food. They have nowhere to be and all Zayn wants to do is keep kissing Liam. Liam moves to straddle Zayn’s hips and Zayn pauses, his hand in Liam’s hair. Liam’s hard, his erection pressing against Zayn’s stomach. Liam doesn’t seem to mind, leaning to kiss Zayn again, but Liam’s wearing really tight jeans and that must be uncomfortable and Zayn’s not kissing him back.

“What’s wrong?” Liam asks.

“Um,” Zayn shifts a bit, tries to pull back but he’s pressed against the sofa, trapped between Liam’s legs. He has options. He could push Liam off of him, which would be dramatic and a bit offensive. He could just carry on like he hasn’t noticed, or he could –

Zayn leans up and presses his mouth hard against his Liam’s, his hand reaching to close over the front of his jeans and Liam gasps against his lips. “Zayn,” he breathes. Zayn’s fumbling with the button on Liam’s jeans but Liam stills his hand, placing his hand over it. “Wait,” he says. He sits back and pulls his jumper up, over his head, dropping it onto the floor. Zayn stares. He can’t help it. He can’t look away. He’s so gorgeous. Then he feels Liam’s hands on him, his mouth on Zayn’s neck.

“Liam,” he says. Liam looks up. Zayn can feel his fingers on the hem of his t shirt again but he won’t make any moves until Zayn okays it, Zayn knows that. Zayn sighs and nods his head, biting into his lip as Liam moves to lift his t shirt. Liam ducks his head and kisses over Zayn’s hips, over the heart tattooed there, up to his ribs and more tattoos, over his chest. Together, they pull away his t shirt and Liam keeps kissing him.

“God, you’re perfect,” Liam breathes, moving up to find Zayn’s lips. Zayn’s hands are on Liam’s arms, on his back, everywhere he can touch. He finally settles them on Liam’s hips and his breath stutters when Liam grinds forward. Liam’s careful, careful kisses, careful fingers on Zayn’s belt, unbuckling, flicking open his button.

Zayn follows him. He gets Liam’s flies undone, pushes on his jeans and feels Liam laugh against his lips. “Hang on, let me just - ” Liam moves to pull his jeans away and his mouth is back on Zayn’s, tugging his jeans down. They’re both in their boxers. Zayn’s shaking.

“I won’t push you,” Liam says again. “We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“I want to touch you,” Zayn says. He reaches to stroke Liam through his boxers.

Liam nods. “That’s – yeah, okay.” He gasps when Zayn pushes his hand past the waistband and takes Liam’s erection in his hand. Liam makes this noise in his throat that makes Zayn hot all over. He strokes his hand over the head of Liam’s cock and brings his hand up and down, watching Liam squeeze his eyes shut, his mouth falling open.

“Zayn, I got to – “ Liam moves and Zayn takes his hand away, watching Liam pulling his boxers away. “Bedroom?” Liam asks, like he can’t form sentences anymore. Just unfinished lines and one words. Zayn nods. When Liam stands up he kicks his boxers away and Zayn stays where he is for a moment, admiring. Not being creepy, he hopes.

Liam looks at him and Zayn grins. “Nice view,” he says.

Liam rolls his eyes but he’s smiling back at Zayn. “Pretty great from my side too,” he says, eyes sweeping over Zayn. Zayn wants to cover himself. He feels so aware of Liam’s eyes on him, all of him, soaking him up, making him feel – making him feel like he’s someone worth looking at.

He leads Liam to his bedroom and gets his hands back on him as soon as he’s spread out on his bed. Zayn crawls over him, straddling his legs and he works his hand faster. Liam moans, pulling him down to kiss him. Zayn twists his hand and he feels Liam’s teeth graze his lip.

“I want to – _Zayn_ ,” Liam whines, his hand is on Zayn’s hip and then it’s in his boxers and Zayn makes an embarrassing noise against Liam’s jaw, moving to kiss over it and over Liam’s neck. His hand stills when Liam fists his cock, his mind going blank.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, pushing his hips forward.

“I want to suck you off,” Liam manages to get out and Zayn can’t catch his breath, can hear how loud it is in the room. He moans into Liam’s neck. “Can I?” Liam asks.

“God, yeah. Yeah, you can definitely do that.”

Liam smiles and pushes Zayn onto his back, rolling them both over and pulling on the waistband of Zayn’s boxers. Zayn closes his eyes, biting hard into his lip and lifting his hips so Liam can take them off, and then he feels Liam trailing his hand over his cock before wrapping it around the base.

“Oh God,” Zayn hisses as Liam closes his lips around him. He opens his eyes, glancing down and watching, his mouth open, still breathing somehow, and Liam takes him deeper. Liam’s eyes are closed but when he senses Zayn watching he looks up at him, his eyes all dark, and Zayn can’t handle it. He lasts seconds of eye contact before Liam starts bobbing his head and he has to throw his arm over his eyes.

Liam pulls of a little, teasing Zayn with the tip of his tongue and then taking him back down and Zayn reaches down to get his hands in Liam’s hair. He breathes out Liam’s name and tightens his grip. That’s when he notices the unmistakable sound of Liam’s own hand on his dick, getting himself off as he sucks on Zayn’s cock. That thought pushes Zayn over.

He shudders. “Li, I’m gonna come,” he whispers. Liam groans around him and Zayn’s hips jolt, his whole body shaking as he gasps and comes. “Liam,” he chokes out. Liam swallows and licks at Zayn’s cock before kissing up his stomach, his chest, his neck. He kisses Zayn’s mouth and Zayn’s clinging to him, his chest still heaving.

“Hey,” Liam whispers.

“Fucking hell,” Zayn breathes and he feels Liam smiling into his neck. He feels dizzy as he reaches to wrap his hand around Liam’s cock. He strokes and Liam rocks his hips into it. Then Liam tenses and Zayn feels his hand, next to Zayn’s head, fist the sheets. He gasps sharply, his hips snapping as he spills over Zayn’s fingers.

He kisses Zayn, all messy and desperate, his hand tight in Zayn’s hair. Then he’s sitting up and reaching for a tissue from Zayn’s nightstand, cleaning them up before he lies all over Zayn, head on his chest, hands entwined, fitting together.

“I’m gonna stay here forever,” Liam says. Zayn focuses on the weight of him, the warmth, and he smiles.

“I think I’d be okay with that,” he says.

**

They fall asleep again. When Zayn wakes up he needs to pee so he has to try and slide out from under Liam to get to the bathroom. Liam mumbles something and rolls over onto his back, eyes still closed. For a moment, Zayn watches him. There’s a beautiful boy in his bed, all messy haired and flushed, lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he sleeps. There’s a beautiful boy in Zayn’s bed and that makes Zayn want to run. He doesn’t know why. He wonders if he’d stay if they were in Liam’s apartment. Would he gather up his clothes and leave? Maybe.

In the bathroom, he just looks at himself. There’s a bruise above his collarbone, above his ‘friday?’ tattoo that he got with Louis after a funny conversation that he barely remembers now. He runs his hands over his chest, his ribs, his hips and suddenly he feels sick. It doesn’t matter that Liam calls him perfect, it doesn’t matter that he’s leaving kisses all over him like he’s something precious. Zayn still feels horrible. He can’t even look at himself any more. He walks back out to the living room, starts picking up clothes.

When Liam walks into the kitchen Zayn’s smoking his second cigarette and holding a black coffee that he hasn’t tried drinking yet because he knows it’s still too hot and it will burn his throat.

“Hey, love,” Liam says. He’s just wearing his boxers. He looks at Zayn with worried eyes. “Can I have one?”

Zayn holds out his cigarettes. It’s too cold for April and it’s raining again. He lets Liam wrap his arms around him from behind, bury his face into his neck. Liam’s still so warm. They both look out the window as they smoke. It’s quiet. It’s late.

“Are you okay?” Liam asks carefully.

“What?”

“Zayn, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Zayn stubs out his cigarette.

“Are you sure? You know we can talk. I care about you.”

Zayn still feels sick, his stomachs in knots. His head hurts like he’s been drinking. He takes a mouthful of his coffee. “We’ve messed our sleeping pattern up a bit, haven’t we?” he says.

“I guess, yeah.”

“Can you go now?”

Zayn doesn’t look away from the window but he feels Liam letting go of him, feels him stepping back. “What?” Liam asks.

Zayn closes his eyes. “I can’t – Liam, I can’t do this. I’m not your project, I’m not going to get better just because you’re here.”

“I don’t – you’re not a project, Zayn. What the fuck?”

Zayn turns to look at him and immediately wishes he hadn’t because Liam looks heartbroken, his eyes wide and arms crossed over his body. “You could do better,” Zayn says with a shrug.

“I couldn’t. I couldn’t do better than you, no one’s better than you. I don’t care about anyone else. I want you.”

“Liam,” Zayn shakes his head. “I’ll call you. I want to be alone for a bit.”

Liam sighs. “You better fucking call me,” he says. He walks into the living room to pick up his clothes. Zayn keeps drinking his coffee. When Liam’s dressed he comes back into the kitchen and leans in to kiss Zayn and Zayn puts down his coffee, kissing Liam back. Liam steps back, just looking at Zayn with those stupid, sad eyes and Zayn forces a smile.

“Sorry – I’m having a moment. I’ll snap out of it. I’m gonna get lunch with Haz tomorrow and then we can – I don’t know, get drinks?” he says.

Liam’s eyes stop being sad. He smiles at Zayn, nodding. “I’ve had a great time today,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He kisses Zayn again and then he leaves. Zayn doesn’t move.

**

He doesn’t call Liam. He smokes another few cigarettes, draws for a bit and then crumples up the attempts. He tries to sleep but can’t.

When he meets Harry for lunch, Harry gives him a once over and raises his eyebrows. “You, Zayn Malik, look terrible. Just saying.”

“Thanks. You look shit too,” Zayn says but he smiles as he says it. The waiter brings them the menu and the words blur. Zayn asks Harry to order for him because he doesn’t really know what to choose. Harry orders chips and a salad.

“So, how’s the personal trainer forward slash God?” Harry asks.

Zayn shrugs. “Alright, I think.”

“You think? You didn’t fuck it up, did you?”

“Can we talk about something else? Like, the wedding? You guys picked a venue yet? It’s like weeks away, man.”

That successfully gets Harry off the topic. He pulls post-it notes out of his pocket, lists of pros and cons for every venue they’ve seen. He tells Zayn about the catering, the decorations, the music. They want Niall to cover Harry’s favourite Fleetwood Mac song for their first dance.

An hour into the conversation, Harry stops short. “Zayn,” he says, his voice low.

Zayn looks up at him, sees eyes full of worry. “What?”

“You haven’t eaten anything.” Harry looks down at Zayn’s plate and Zayn follows his gaze. He’s cut the chips up into tiny bits, spread them around the plate a bit, but, Harry’s right, he hasn’t eaten a mouthful. He hasn’t even looked at the salad yet.

When he looks back at Harry, Harry’s jaw is set tight and he’s staring at Zayn. “When did you last eat?” he asks.

“Harry, don’t start,” Zayn mutters.

“When did you last eat?” Harry repeats, firmer.

Zayn can’t remember. He thinks maybe it was the Chinese food with Liam yesterday. He sticks his fork into a chip and puts it in his mouth, chewing slowly, eyes still on Harry. There’s a lump in his throat. He feels like he’s going to gag but he swallows, trying not to wince. Harry throws his own cutlery down onto the table. He looks furious.  

“I had a big breakfast, Harry. I’m not that hungry,” Zayn says.

“Oh yeah? Haven’t heard that one before. What are doing, Zayn? I was there, I saw how hard recovering was, don’t go backwards.”

“No one asked you to fucking be there,” Zayn snaps.

Harry goes quiet. Then he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“What are you doing?” Zayn asks.

“I’m calling Niall,” Harry says back.

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Right. Go ahead,” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms.

“Why are you doing this?” Harry asks. He has his phone in his hand but Zayn knows he won’t call. It’s an empty threat. Harry’s tried it before when he found out Zayn had thrown all the food from his fridge into the rubbish bin outside his apartment. That was a year ago. Harry had taken him out for food and stared at him as he forced himself to swallow it. Niall never found out.

Zayn clenches his fists, nails biting skin. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Did Liam say something? Did something happen?”

“He’s too good for me,” Zayn says. He closes his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. “Liam’s too good, Harry. I don’t feel good enough.”

He hears Harry sigh and he opens his eyes, watching Harry shake his head. “You’re so stupid,” Harry says. “Zayn, you have someone who thinks the world of you. Let him do that, don’t push him away.”

Zayn unclenches his fists and his eyes drop from Harry’s face to his hands. The phone in his hand. He looks back up at Harry with wide eyes. He hasn’t heard from Niall since yesterday morning. Niall who messages and calls him every few seconds, even if he has nothing important to say. He hasn’t said a word to Zayn since his song got in the charts. “Fuck,” Zayn breathes. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens Niall’s Twitter. Nothing. “Fuck,” Zayn repeats louder. “I have to go.”

“What? You’re not leaving in the middle of this conversation,” Harry says.

“Harry, I’m sorry – I’ll call you. We’ll talk.”

“Zayn,” Harry warns but Zayn puts the money he owes onto the table and starts towards Niall’s place, not even turning as Harry shouts his name after him.

 

He knocks on Niall’s door and, when there’s no answer, he knocks harder, his fist pummelling at wood. “Niall,” he calls. “Open the door, Niall, please.”

When the door opens, Zayn nearly stumbles inside. Niall’s looking at him, all red eyed and messy haired. “What?” he asks. “I was taking a nap.”

“I thought – _shit_ , Niall. Why haven’t you messaged me? I was worried.”

Niall runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve been pretty busy. Promo stuff. Interviews.”

Zayn realises then that Niall’s blocking the door. He’s only opened it enough so Zayn can see him, not into his apartment. When Niall senses what Zayn’s thinking, he tenses, moving to close the door but Zayn pushes harder and steps into the apartment. Niall’s apartment is huge, massive living room with a dozen different guitars, scraps of paper for writing lyrics everywhere, food cartons. A bottle of whiskey sits on the coffee table. Zayn walks over and picks it up. It looks untouched.

“Zayn, I didn’t drink any of it,” Niall says. “I got it and I took it here and I went to sleep.”

Zayn looks at Niall and he knows he isn’t lying. “Did you get anything else?”

Niall swallows, looking down at his socked feet. “Yeah,” he says. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small clear bag filled with white powder. He throws it to Zayn, who catches it. “I didn’t though. I didn’t do anything.” Niall crosses his arms around himself, biting his lip. “I wanted to,” he admits.

“Niall,” Zayn says, walking over and pulling him into a hug. “It’s okay, you didn’t do anything. I’m proud of you,” he says.

“I want to stop wanting,” Niall says. “I don’t know if I can keep this up, Zayn.”

Where the hell has Zayn been while Niall’s been going through this? He feels awful and sick. His stomach is empty. It’s empty enough that it’s starting to ache. He kind of wants to cry but he can feel Niall’s fist clenching in his t shirt and he breathes deep, holding it back. “Niall, what if – I know you’re away a lot, but we could get a place together? Not to like monitor you but so you don’t have to be alone. Me neither.”

Niall looks up, stepping back from their embrace. “What about Li?”

Zayn shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s gonna work, Ni.”

“Don’t you dare push him away, Zayn. He really, really likes you.”

“I know. I know that. I just can’t give myself to him, you know? I don’t think I’m ready for it. Me and you could get a real nice place, get a recording studio in there and a room for me to sketch. You can cook that fucking amazing macaroni cheese and I can – I don’t know, recommend good movies to watch while we eat it.”

Niall’s smile is growing. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Do you wanna get lunch?” Zayn asks.

“You were just papped getting lunch with Harry, saw it on Twitter when you woke me up and I was tryna ignore you.”

“I didn’t eat,” Zayn says. “I’m hungry now though.”

Niall looks at him but not in that pitying way Harry does, or the sad way Liam does. He just looks and then he nods. “Yeah, let’s go.”

**

The next few weeks are just _wedding wedding wedding._ Zayn’s going with Harry and Louis to suit fittings, buying ties. Harry makes him buy the red one, Louis says it brings out his eyes and Zayn punches him a little too hard in the arm. There’s the stag do with the three of them, Louis’ best man, Stan, some of his team mates, Harry’s agent. They do a pub crawl around their favourite places in London, ending at a fancy club where Zayn’s secured the VIP section and far too much free champagne. It’s all booked, after months of looking at venues they found a huge open area and decided they didn’t want to get married in a church or a hall but in a field.

The wedding is going to be beautiful. Zayn’s glad to have something to focus on.

He has a dozen missed calls from Liam, texts that vary from _please talk to me, zayn, I miss you_ to _fuck you you cant just disappear on me._ Zayn doesn’t work out, doesn’t call Liam. But he eats three meals a day and snacks, he goes out with his friends, he serves coffee, he helps to plan the biggest wedding of the decade. He’s okay.

**

He gets to Harry and Louis’ place on the morning of the wedding and Louis is a mess of nerves but Harry’s sitting at the breakfast bar with a grin on his face, so big that it almost looks painful. “We’re getting married,” he sings, swinging his legs.

“In like six hours. Are you sure the catering guys will have veggie food. Lottie will throw a fit if they don’t. Fuck, Zayn, you’ve got the rings?” Louis asks, turning to look at Zayn so suddenly that Zayn jumps.

“Yes. I definitely have the rings,” Zayn takes the box out of his pocket, opening it to show Louis the two gold bands inside.

Louis sighs and runs a hand through his hair. The stylist who’s fussing over Harry glances over and huffs at him.

“Sorry, Lou. You gotta do it again,” Louis says, walking over to sit next to Harry as the stylist, Lou, gets to work on his hair again.

They pile into expensive cars with tinted windows and get to the field, to the huge canopy filled with green and blue balloons, green and blue flowers on the tables. Zayn wanders past tables, adjusting the place settings. The cake has a little figure of Louis in his footie gear on it with a little Harry in his arms. Zayn smiles when he reaches it, shaking his head at his stupid best friends.

He hears Niall before he sees him, as usual.

They moved in together last week, put a deposit down on a house with a huge back garden and three bedrooms, one of which they’re going to turn into Niall’s studio. Living with Niall means music. Permanent music. Niall’s singing softly, strumming his guitar and Zayn walks back out to see him on the makeshift stage. Niall winks at Zayn as he approaches.

“Hey, wrote this one for you,” Niall says. He strums the guitar, messy and loud. “I’m an idiot who won’t call my boyfriend back because I’m stupid,” he sings.

“Fuck off, Niall,” Zayn mutters.

“Yeah. Well, go back inside,” Niall says.

“Why?”

“Go. Be gone. I’m rehearsing for a very, very important gig, man.” Niall waves Zayn off and Zayn walks back to the canopy. He doesn’t miss Niall’s grin. Harry and Louis are outside the canopy. Louis is fussing with Harry’s tie and then Harry grabs Louis’ tie and yanks him forward to kiss him. Harry’s wearing pale blue, Louis is wearing very dark green. They look lovely together.

Harry smiles as Zayn passes. “Good luck,” he says softly.

Zayn doesn’t know what he’s talking about until he steps in and sees someone standing by the cake, their back to him. He’s dressed in a suit, holding a badly wrapped gift in his hands. Zayn clears his throat and Liam spins around to stare at him.

“Hi. Um – where do I put gifts?” Liam asks.

“Thought Harry was only inviting a small selection of friends,” Zayn says. He sighs and points over to a table. “There.”

Liam puts the gift down and puts his hands in his pockets, looking down at his shoes. “Yeah, I – um. He invited me a few days ago. Said - ” Liam looks at Zayn’s tie and back at his own. “Are we matching?” he asks.

That little shit. Zayn glares over to where Harry’s standing, listening in of course. Harry darts away when he sees Zayn looking.

“Listen, Zayn. I don’t know what I did, or if I did anything at all. I just know we had a really great time together and I like you and this isn’t fair. You gotta talk to me.”

Zayn kicks his foot against the grass. He feels like a little kid.

“I’ve missed you,” Liam says.

“I’ve missed you too,” Zayn admits.

“Then what’s going on?”

Zayn looks up at Liam. He doesn’t know where to start, how to put what he’s feeling into words. He wants to be with Liam but he’s always going to be unsure, waiting for Liam to roll over one morning, look at Zayn, and regret all the time he’s wasted with him. Zayn wishes he didn’t feel like this. It’s all so pathetic.

“I’m a mess,” Zayn says. “I’m a total mess and I can’t deal. I don’t like myself, at all, and I second guess you all the time. Like, why me? Why would he ever like me? I need to be better for him, but I can’t be better. I can just be me.”

“That’s all I want, Zayn. Just you”

Zayn closes his eyes. He can’t cry, can’t have wedding pictures with red rimmed eyes and blotchy cheeks. “I’m so scared of this,” he says.

He hears Liam move towards him and he opens his eyes. “I know. But, I’m not expecting or hoping for anything other than what is in front of me now. Do you get that? You, Zayn, just you. You don’t need to worry about not being enough for me.”

“What about when I have bad days? Like – I need you to understand that I’m going to have days when I don’t want to move from the sofa, I don’t want to eat, I don’t want to see my reflection – “

“I just want – when you feel like that – I want to be there with you. I want to sit with you on the sofa, tell you you’re lovely. I want to be there in any way I can.”

Fucking wedding pictures be damned, Zayn’s eyes are burning. He blinks and feels a tear on his cheek. Liam’s thumb is there, wiping it away, and then he’s leaning in, kissing Zayn’s cheek. “You could find someone else who isn’t fucked up,” Zayn mutters.

“Shut up. Just _shut up_.” Zayn looks up at Liam, surprised, because Liam doesn’t ever raise his voice but he is now and he looks so angry and Zayn didn’t realise Liam was even capable of looking like that. “I’m not Mr fucking perfect myself, you know? I have baggage. I have stuff that I’ve been too scared to even tell you about. So, shut up about your flaws. I want your flaws. I want everything you have, good and bad.” Liam takes a breath and lets it out slowly. He looks at Zayn with wide eyes, like he didn’t really mean to say all of that.

Zayn blinks at him.

“No one’s perfect,” Liam mutters.

“Fuck,” Zayn rubs at his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’ve been fucking awful to you.”

Liam nods. “Yeah, you have.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“You just can’t shut me off, Zayn.”

“I know.”

Liam hesitates, licking over his lips. “Do you want me?” He asks. Zayn looks at Liam’s eyes first which are wet like he might start crying at any moment. His jaw is set, mouth in a thin straight line as he stares Zayn down, waiting. Zayn leans in, cups his hand over Liam’s cheek and kisses him quickly.

“Of course I want you,” he whispers.

Liam nods. “You have me,” he says quietly. “Let me have you.” He moves to kiss Zayn, his hands in his hair. Zayn lets go, lets Liam lick into his mouth and hold him tighter, lets Liam pull him closer. He lets Liam pull him in.

 

The wedding is wonderful. Zayn and Stan step forward at the right time to give the rings and everyone cheers when Harry kisses Louis and then laughs against his lips like he can’t help himself. Zayn smiles at them both, throws confetti. His eyes find Liam, who’s sitting with Niall and watching him, just him. Zayn tells everyone why he loves Harry so much in his speech and Harry’s eyes get wet as he listens, Louis wrapping his arm around him and kissing his temple. They dance and drink at the reception. Niall sings. Zayn wraps his arms around Liam’s neck and he can’t stop kissing him.

Harry and Louis are going to Hawaii tonight. Then they’re going everywhere. It’s one hell of a honeymoon. When it’s dark and they’re saying goodbye to Harry and Louis, who have changed into ridiculous printed Hawaiian shirts, and Niall is heading back to the apartment, throwing them a wink, Liam takes Zayn’s hand. He brings Zayn’s fingers to his mouth, brushing his lips over his knuckles. “You want to come back to mine?” he whispers.

Zayn smiles and nods. “I’d like that,” he says.

 

He eats three meals a day and snacks, he goes out with his friends, he serves coffee, draws beautiful things, mostly Liam. He wakes up next to Liam, traces his fingers over all of him, they have coffee together on the sofa watching Friends, they listen to Niall play his new songs and cheer him on, pretending to be the crowd he’s going to play to when he goes on tour. They go on dates, they work out, they kiss and hold hands and fuck and hold each other close.

And Zayn’s more than okay.

He’s really fucking great. 


End file.
